Famous Stories Every Child Should Know eBook

(which stammered with passion) from saying a word
directly against her. She soon drew her hand
from under the water, bringing up a beautiful coral
necklace whose glitter dazzled them all. “Take
it,” said she, offering it kindly to Bertalda;
“I have sent for this, instead of the one you
lost; do not grieve any more, my poor child.”
But Huldbrand darted forward, snatched the shining
gift from Undine’s hand, hurled it again into
the water, and roared furiously, “So you still
have intercourse with them? In the name of sorcery,
go back to them with all your baubles, and leave us
men in peace, witch as you are!” With eyes aghast,
yet streaming with tears, poor Undine gazed at him,
still holding out the hand which had so lovingly presented
to Bertalda the bright jewel. Then she wept more
and more, like a sorely injured, innocent child.
And at length she said faintly, “Farewell, my
dearest; farewell! They shall not lay a finger
on thee; only be true to me, that I may still guard
thee from them. But I, alas! I must be gone;
all this bright morning of life is over. Woe,
woe is me! what hast thou done? woe, woe!” And
she slipped out of the boat and passed away.
Whether she went down into the river, or flowed away
with it, none could tell; it was like both and yet
like neither. She soon mingled with the waters
of the Danube, and nothing was to be heard but the
sobbing whispers of the stream as it washed against
the boat, seeming to say distinctly, “Woe, woe!
Oh be true to me! woe, woe!”

Huldbrand lay flat in the boat, drowned in tears,
till a deep swoon came to the unhappy man’s
relief, and steeped him in oblivion.

XVI.—­OF WHAT BEFELL HULDBRAND AFTERWARDS

Shall we say, Alas, or thank God, that our grief is
so often transient? I speak of such grief as
has its source in the wellsprings of life itself,
and seems so identified with our lost friend, as almost
to fill up the void he has left; and his hallowed image
seems fixed within the sanctuary of our soul, until
the signal of our release comes, and sets us free
to join him! In truth, a good man will not suffer
this sanctuary to be disturbed; yet even with him,
it is not the first, the all-engrossing sorrow which
abides. New objects will intermingle, and we
are compelled to draw from our grief itself a fresh
proof of the perishableness of earthly things:
alas, then, that our grief is transient!

So it was with the Lord of Ringstetten; whether for
his weal or woe, the sequel of this story will show
us. At first, he could do nothing but weep abundantly,
as his poor kind Undine had wept when he snatched
from her the beautiful gift, which she thought would
have comforted and pleased them so much. He would
then stretch out his hand as she had done, and burst
into tears afresh, like her. He secretly hoped
that he might end by altogether dissolving in tears:
and are there not many whose minds have been visited